


we can do good, together

by kinneyb



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: (literally), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Jaskier is a god, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:33:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23466175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinneyb/pseuds/kinneyb
Summary: Geralt had heard rumors of it before he'd been approached by Yennefer and asked, "How much?“He stared at her, unimpressed, "How much to dowhat?""Don't play coy," she replied, "You know just as well as I do that there's been something wrecking havoc across the Continent."
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 27
Kudos: 996





	we can do good, together

**Author's Note:**

> ive had a rough couple of days but i hope u guys enjoy this! 
> 
> twitter: queermight / tumblr: korrmin

Geralt had heard rumors of it before he'd been approached by Yennefer and asked, "How much?“

He stared at her, unimpressed, "How much to do _what?"_

"Don't play coy," she replied, "You know just as well as I do that there's been something wrecking havoc across the Continent."

Geralt leaned back; Yennefer had found him in a rundown tavern in a small town. No doubt she had used magic. "I have," he admitted, "but what does that have to do with your timely visit?"

Yennefer slid into the chair across from him. She looked as beautiful as ever, but he no longer felt any longing for her. They were friends now, family almost, and he found himself preferring that.

"The Brotherhood is worried," she said. "So far this _thing_ hasn't killed, or gravely injured, but it's likely only a matter of time." She leaned on the table, dark curls falling over her shoulders. "It's not just them, Geralt, the whole Continent is up in arms over this. It _needs_ to be taken care of."

Geralt sighed, "And why don't you do it?"

Yennefer leaned back sharply. "I've tried," she said gruffly. "I tracked it all over the Continent, from small towns to cities, but nothing. I couldn't find it."

"Huh," he said, almost smiling. "And you think I can?"

Yennefer shrugged, arching an eyebrow, "If you can't, I'm afraid we're doomed."

"You _must_ be worried," he said, "if you actually asking for help."

She waved down a server before turning back to him. "Will you do it or not?" she asked. "You are a monster hunter, yes?"

"How do we know it's a monster," he asked as the server reappeared with a beer for the lady, "and not one of your kind?"

Yennefer took a sip and made a face, "Disgusting," she muttered before saying, "The Brotherhood would know if it was one of us, okay?"

He didn't trust the Brotherhood, not even a little, but he trusted Yennefer. "Okay," he conceded, nodding. "But how did you track it?"

Yennefer smiled. "I'll show you," she said, "Later, but first..." She reached into her bag, small and thrown over her shoulder, and pulled out a pouch of coins. "Is this enough for the job?"

"Wait," he said, raising his eyebrows. "You're actually paying me?"

Yennefer pushed the pouch closer, "The Brotherhood is paying," she corrected. Geralt's eyes widened, just barely, and she shrugged, "I wasn't lying, Geralt; they are worried about this."

He took the pouch and opened it; he wouldn't have to work again for almost an year.

"And they'll let me do it," he said, "on my own terms?"

She nodded primly. "No interfering," she agreed, "I told them you wouldn't do it unless they stayed out of it and let you do your job."

Geralt smiled, "You know me so well."

Yennefer smiled back, "We _did_ sleep together," she said, "at one point."

Sometimes he missed her, but never enough to ruin their budding friendship. "Fine," he said, pocketing the pouch. "I'll do it."

Looking pleased, she downed the rest of her beer, coughed briefly, and stood up. "Follow me," she said, turning around without waiting for a reply and walking away. Geralt sighed and stood up, collecting his bag, and followed her out of the tavern and to the local inn.

She led him to a room and opened the door, "Oh," she said once he had already stepped through, "Don't mind the—"

But he was already coughing, "What the fuck, Yen?"

"Oh, toughen up," she said, walking over to the bed that had obviously not been used for sleep; it was covered in ingredients, from flowers to a jar that contained something fleshy and was emanating a foul odor.

He shook it off as he approached the bed, and peered over her shoulder.

"This is it," she said as he picked up a mirror. "Here."

Geralt accepted it. "Uh." It looked like a normal mirror; he stared at his own reflection.

"All you have to do is tap the mirror," she explained, "twice."

Geralt looked at her skeptically, but she was unfaltering. Looking back down, he tapped the mirror with his finger—once, twice—and suddenly it was a map of the lands with a glowing spot near the coast.

" _That_ ," she nodded at the mirror, "tracks the monster, or thing or whatever. But it's not actually very useful," she sighed, sitting on the bed carefully. "I followed it at least a dozen times—even through portals—but every time I showed up, there was no sign of it.“

Geralt hummed, "Very few beasts can actually travel that fast," he remarked, joining her. He tapped the mirror again, twice, and stared at his reflection.

"You've always been impressive," she said, smiling slightly. "Both as a hunter, and as a man."

He smiled back and shrugged his bag off, tucking the mirror in it. "I will do my best," he said, meaning it.

Yennefer grabbed something off the bed—two rings, silver and plain. "Here," she said, "I enchanted them. If you need me, just take it off and I'll feel it. I'll portal over as quickly as I can."

Geralt slipped it on, "You're not staying?"

"I would," she said with a sigh, "but the Brotherhood, and Tissaia, are losing their minds." Yennefer stood up, slipping the other ring on her slender finger, "I'm going to help them with the aftermath of our little beast; entire farms destroyed or missing, uncontrollable storms, it's a mad world out there right now, Geralt. Be safe."

Geralt stood up, "But you said the beast hasn't killed yet, right?"

Yennefer nodded, "But do _not_ be yourself," she said, placing a hand on his arm. Geralt stared down at her. "I understand how you do things, and I normally respect it, but this—this _thing_ can't be trusted, and you know it as well as I do. Find it, and _kill_ it, Geralt."

"I understand," he said gruffly. "Don't worry."

Looking pleased, she stepped away and gathered the ingredients on the bed, stuffing them in her bag. "Well," she said once she was finished, brushing her hair back, "I will hopefully hear from you soon, for better or worse."

Geralt nodded, "You will."

Turning away, she opened a portal. Geralt watched as she stepped through and the portal closed with a flash of light.

*

Geralt packed up and left town. He set up camp in the woods and fed Roach before settling down for the night. He leaned back in front of the fire and tapped the mirror, twice. From what he saw, the beast was still near the coast, probably wrecking havoc and a lot of it.

"What do you think?" he asked, looking over at Roach. "Wann' visit the coast?"

She snorted loudly. Geralt smiled and put the mirror away, "That's what I thought."

It'd probably take him a few days, though, and he assumed it would be for naught; judging from Yennefer's experience, the beast always disappeared before her arrival. But it was still a starting point, and the pouch of coins from the Brotherhood weighed heavily in his pocket.

He was many things, but he wasn't a cheat. If he could do the job, he would.

*

In the morning, he packed up and left with Roach. It was a sunny, warm day and they traveled for hours before wandering across a small town. Jumping down, he led her through the town and stopped at a tavern.

"I won't be long," he assured her, laughing lightly when she headbutted his chest, obviously displeased. He tied her up to a post out front and entered the tavern, pulling down the hood of his shawl.

Most of the patrons stopped talking and turned to look at him.

He was used to it, of course, and undeterred as he walked to the bar. The bartender was a young woman—unusual, but not unheard of.

"You should go," she said.

Geralt snorted, "I'm good," he said. "A beer, and an order of... anything."

She stared him down for a long, silent moment before she grabbed a mug and placed it on the bar, filling it. "The townsfolk are already itching for a fight," she said. "It's not smart to stay."

Geralt took a gulp and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, "And why is that?"

She blinked at him. "There was a big storm a few days ago, and all the animals got startled and ran off. Wouldn't normally happen, but the gates were open for some reason. Everyone's been pointing fingers at each other since, but so far we still have no idea who did it." Geralt perked up a bit as she continued, "Most of townsfolk are worked up, and for good reason; we might not have enough food to get through the summer unless we get them back."

"Hm," he said before downing the rest of his beer and standing up. "Got any bread?"

"Uh," she said, "Okay." Disappearing, she returned with a piece of bread, not very big but also not moldy. Good enough for him. "You're leaving?" she asked once he had grabbed it.

Geralt answered around a mouthful of bread, "I am." He placed a handful of coins on the bar. "Thanks for the warning."

Leaving the tavern, and thankfully avoiding any confrontations, he untied Roach and mounted her. He dug around in his saddlebags until he found the small pouch of treats he kept for Roach. Throwing a few pieces in the air, she caught them midair with a loud smack. He scratched behind her ear.

"Good girl,“ he said. "Off we go."

*

A few days later and they stopped at a small town near the coast. Geralt booked a room and prepared for the morning. He had checked the mirror, again and again, but for some reason the beast was always in the same spot near the coast. He learned why when he went to the local tavern that night and heard the townsfolk talking loudly.

"Won't let none our sailors near it!"

"Going wild," another said. "Almost drowned me!"

Geralt frowned and stopped one of the servers, a young man, "What are they talking about?"

"Haven't you heard?" he asked, "The sea has been acting wild."

He nodded. "Wild," he repeated slowly. "In what ways?"

The server glanced around once before sliding into the chair across from him. "If you even _get_ near the water, you'll be washed away with the waves, the biggest we've ever seen. A few of our best sailors have tried sailing it, but their ships were overturned not long after departing. Thankfully, no one's been killed but—"

"But it's causing problems," he finished knowingly.

The server nodded, "We don't know what to do. It's not like we can control the sea."

Geralt smiled nastily, "You can't," he agreed, "but that doesn't mean they can't." The server looked at him oddly. "I'm planning to take care of it," he said gruffly, "in the morning."

"Wait," he said, "You know what's causing it?"

Geralt opened his mouth, closed it. "Kind of." Well, not at all, but that wasn't very comforting. He had killed many beasts over the centuries, though; he was confident in his abilities.

"Oh." The server jumped to his feet. "Oh, _thank_ you. You'll get our special, on the house." Before Geralt could say anything, he rushed away.

Sighing, he leaned back in his chair. He had no choice but to finish the job now; he had too many people depending on him: Yennefer, the bartender, the boy. Returning with the food, he placed it in front of Geralt and smiled brightly.

"Good luck," he said.

Geralt grunted in reply and started to eat. He would need it.

Later that night, he returned to the room he was renting. He pulled his swords out and sharpened them. Satisfied, he put them away again and called for the innkeeper.

In a warm bath, he leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He had dealt with many different kinds of monsters, and he was always a fair man—if they hadn't killed, he would listen to their story and consider other options, but Yennefer obviously felt differently. The beast hadn't killed, not yet, but perhaps she was right: it _was_ likely only a matter of time.

It was wrecking havoc, and that was enough for now, but what if the beast grew bored of playing pranks? He would be doing the right thing; killing it before it could kill. Geralt opened his eyes, eyelashes fluttering, and frowned at the ceiling. "Right?" he asked the empty room. He did not get a reply.

*

In the morning, he grabbed his bag and left without Roach. The server from last night—Joshua—had promised to watch her. He was skeptical of him, but it was undeniably the better option: Roach could easily be taken by the waves if she got too close. At least Geralt could swim back.

He walked through the town, down some rocky paths, and peered at the coast. The sun was high in the sky, reflecting off the water.

Geralt shrugged off his bag, far from the water, and unsheathed his sword. Prepared, he approached the water, expecting chaos—like Joshua had explained—but the water was perfectly calm.

Almost _too_ calm.

He turned and glanced around. Nothing; it was silent and still. Frowning, he pulled the mirror out of his boot and tapped it, twice. The beast was nearby, that much could be seen, but the mirror was far from perfect. He couldn't tell which direction, exactly, just that they were almost on top of each other.

Geralt tossed the mirror. "I know you're here," he called, holding his sword down. "Stop hiding and show yourself. If you do not attack me, I will not attack. We can have a civil conversation."

It was silent. No answer.

Geralt almost felt stupid for thinking he would get a reply; the beast had never shown shown itself for Yennefer. He would be no different. But then the water started rushing to the sides, parting. Geralt lifted his sword as the beast revealed itself, slowly, stepping out of the water.

But it was no beast. It was a man.

No, it _was_ a beast of some kind; his medallion was shaking wildly. But they looked human; light skin, brown hair, a toothy grin that revealed rows of perfectly straight, white teeth. They were beautiful.

"Don't," he said gruffly. "Do not step any closer."

The beast laughed loudly and threw his hands in the air, "You think you can kill me—" With a twist of their wrist, Geralt's sword bent in half "—with _that_?" He was so startled he barely even noticed the beast approaching him. When he did, he was too late—the beast was too close. They looked human, yes, but there were a few differences: like their eyes, all black, and the sharp claws growing out of the tips of their fingers. He could feel the power radiating off them; he was powerful, more powerful than he'd been expecting.

Geralt tossed his sword to the ground, still and unmoving as the beast eyed him with interest. He licked his teeth.

"The half-baked," he said finally. "She was a friend?"

Geralt blinked at him, "Yennefer."

"Mmm," the beast took a step forward and sniffed at his neck. "You're like her, but _different_." Suddenly, there was a clawed hand on his chest. "But just as laughably weak," he said with a laugh. "If you intend to kill me, you will need something better than, well—"

His eyes flickered to his sword, and Geralt took that moment to pull out the dagger he had hidden in case of an emergency. Within seconds, he had outsmarted the beast. He pressed the dagger against his neck.

"You've been wrecking havoc across the Continent," he growled. " _Why?"_

The beast didn't look scared, though. Actually, he smiled at him. "Why?" he parroted. "Why _not?_ " He snapped his fingers, and the dagger disappeared. Geralt snarled and tackled him, but when he opened his eyes he was the only one on the ground. The beast placed his foot on his chest, and he was surprisingly strong; Geralt couldn't get up if he wanted to.

The beast evidently had no interest in shoes, and the claws on their feet matched the claws on their hands.

"It's what we do," he continued brightly. "Just like how you hunt monsters, but why?"

Geralt frowned, "What do you mean?"

"It's what you were created to do," he said, moving his foot off his chest. That wasn't the surprising part, though: he offered a hand, and Geralt stared at it for a long, silent moment before accepting it. The beast pulled him up with—more—alarming strength. "I was created to do this."

Geralt narrowed his eyes, "Do what?"

"Have fun," he said with a laugh.

Geralt spread his arms, tilting his chin in the air. His sword glistened under the bright sun. "Well, what are you waiting for?"

"Oh, oh, I don't _kill_ ," the beast said. "That's no fun."

Geralt almost laughed. Or perhaps he did laugh. "What? But _I_ tried to kill _you_."

"Tried," he conceded, grinning. "You didn't actually do it." He stepped forward, eyelashes fluttering, and patted his chest. He really was beautiful; Geralt could hardly take his eyes off him. "I'm assuming you were paid to do it, hmm? By your friend? Well, money makes humans do crazy, crazy things."

He then did the most surprising thing: he kissed him on the cheek.

"I'm not mad, don't worry," he said brightly, pulling back. "We can still be friends."

Geralt stared at him in disbelief. "Who—" No, that wasn't the right question. " _What_ are you?"

Yennefer hadn't paid him nearly enough for this.

"Well, the others call me Jasier," he answered. "But you don't mean that. Do you?"

Geralt shook his head, at a loss for words.

"I'm a god," he said. Geralt had been expecting many things, but admittedly not that. He didn't even _believe_ in gods, and now there was—supposedly—one standing right in front of him? "Don't be _too_ impressed," Jaskier continued with a pout, smoothing down his hair. "I'm just a low level trickster."

Geralt opened his mouth, closed it. "What the fuck?"

"I don't kill," he reminded him sharply, like he was afraid he'd forgotten. "Nothing like that. I just... pull tricks. For _fun_."

Geralt didn't know what to do. He thought about taking off his ring and calling on Yennefer, but he knew what she would do: she would kill him. He didn't know why, but he didn't want that—not yet, at least; he had too many questions. "You're surprisingly... talkative," he said slowly. "Why didn't you show yourself to Yennefer?"

"She had bad intentions," Jaskier replied instantly, frowning. "I could feel it. You don't want to kill me."

Geralt wasn't fond of Yennefer reading his mind, and this wasn't much better. "I don't?"

"Mhm," he said, turning away and walking over to a rock. Geralt knew he must be strong; turning his back to him like that with no worries. He sat on the rock and waved him over. Geralt collected his sword, still bent, and joined him. "She wanted to kill me," he continued. "I wasn't worried—I'm _much_ stronger," he said, spoken like a fact and not an insult, "but I didn't think it'd be very fun."

Geralt stared at the water. "I don't understand," he said slowly. "I mean, you must be powerful; why are you here, doing this? You could be doing anything, right?"

Jaskier eyed him, "I'm a god, but even _I_ have limitations. And I told you, I'm just a low level trickster." He swung his legs. "I'm actually very weak compared to the others."

His head was throbbing. "You're seriously telling me there are _other_ gods?"

"Thousands," he replied instantly. "But most of them are like me, low level and not very strong. Only a few are as powerful as your myths."

Geralt's eyes flickered down to his sword. "I wouldn't say you're weak."

"Oh." Jaskier snapped his fingers; his sword fixed itself. "There," he said brightly. "All better."

Geralt frowned, "I could attack you again."

"But you won't," he said, grinning toothily. "I know these things, Geralt."

Geralt squinted, "I didn't—"

"I told you," he interrupted, "I know things." Jaskier leaned forward, too close. Geralt stared at him. He really _did_ look human, but there was something otherworldly about the smoothness of his skin. No human looked that perfect. Didn’t help that his eyes were also still black. "Even low level gods have a certain— _knowledge_."

Geralt nodded slowly. "But you need to stop." He gestured around. "Doing this."

Jaskier pulled back, "I've been thinking about leaving the coast," he assured him.

"Not just the coast," he said. "All of it."

Jaskier pouted, like a child, "But _why?_ " he asked, "I thought we were all having fun."

Geralt realized then that Jaskier truly wasn't evil; he was _misguided_. "The humans are frightened," he said slowly, "and others are suffering because of your pranks. They are not pranks to them, Jaskier," he said, and the god perked up at that. He was surprisingly easy to read, given his divinity and all that. "And if you keep at it, more humans will suffer and they—the mages, and other hunters—won't stop coming after you."

"They can't kill me," he said sharply.

Geralt honestly didn't doubt that. "No, probably not but one day you might accidentally kill one of _them_." Jaskier frowned, looking torn, and he continued, "Not because you want to, but because you're defending yourself."

Jaskier looked away at that. "I never considered all that."

"You are not a monster," he said. "You do not deserved to be hunted like one."

Jaskier turned back to him. He smiled, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth. He really did look surprisingly human. "You aren't scared," he said, but it wasn't a question. "So many of them—" he nodded toward the town "—are _scared_ of me, even when I'm just trying to play."

Geralt nodded, and placed a hand on his arm. He felt a spark; he didn't show it. "You need to stop," he said. "I want you to stop. Can you do that?"

"All of it?" he asked, pouting again. "Or just the bad stuff?"

Geralt mulled it over. The Brotherhood could probably keep track of him if he kept using his powers, but they would have less of a reason to hunt him down if he wasn't wrecking havoc and drawing attention to himself. "You have powers for a reason," he said finally. "Just be smart about it."

Jaskier nodded, "I'm sorry about your sword."

He smiled, the barest hint of teeth. "No need; you fixed it."

Jaskier smiled again, bright-eyed, an odd fret for black, bottomless eyes. Geralt's stomach did something funny, fluttering, and he vaguely recognized the feeling: it was the same one he'd felt the first time he had met Yennefer all those years ago. Not long after meeting her, they had wound up in bed together. He quickly stood up.

"I have to go," he said tersely. Without waiting for a reply, he walked over and grabbed his bag.

Jaskier followed him, soft footsteps on sand. "Wait," he said. "You're _leaving?_ "

He turned on his heels. Jaskier stared at him. "I can't stay," he said roughly.

Jaskier brightened, "I understand," he said. "Do not worry; I will follow."

Geralt's stomach did it again. It was like he had butterflies in his stomach. He ignored it and cleared his throat, "You can't."

"I don't understand," he said, frowning. "You ask this of me, and then you _abandon_ me?"

Geralt opened his mouth, closed it. He shifted on his feet and looked out on the water. The water rolled, and lapped at the shore leisurely; Jaskier was obviously no longer controlling the sea. He sighed. "Fine," he said, finally looking at him again. Jaskier smiled, brighter than the sun. He wondered briefly if that was a god thing or a Jaskier thing. "But only until we figure out what to do."

“Good,” he said brightly. “You couldn’t have stopped me, anyway.”

*

Jaskier was surprisingly quiet as they traveled; he mostly just watched Geralt. When he did talk, it was to Roach. He cooed over her like she was a baby. Geralt didn't think it was cute. He _didn't_.

"Here," he said once they had stopped for the night. It'd been a few days since he had met Jaskier on the coast, and Geralt didn't know where they were headed, just that he didn't want to stop. This would be their first time sleeping in the woods, too far from any town.

He knew, deep down, he was putting off the inevitable: contacting Yennefer.

Jaskier looked over. "Hm?"

Geralt dug the pouch of Roach's treats out of his saddlebag and tossed it. "Feed her."

"Wh—I can?" he asked excitedly. Without waiting for a reply, he poured a couple treats into the palm of his hand and extended it. Roach sucked them up, crunched them between her teeth, and then lapped at his hand. He giggled, and Geralt smiled, looking away.

He pulled his bedroll off Roach's back and paused. "Crap."

Jaskier glanced over at him again, "What is it?"

"You don't have a bedroll," he said. When Jaskier looked at him oddly, he rolled it out and placed it on the ground. "To sleep," he elaborated.

Jaskier waved him off, "I told you," he said, "I can sleep, and I do, mostly because I get bored sometimes, but I don't have to."

"Okay," he said. "Let me know if you change your mind." Though he didn't know what he would do. Perhaps he could give Jaskier his bedroll; _he_ was the god. Standing up, he grabbed his sword. "Stay here."

Jaskier wrapped his arms around the horse's neck, petting her mane. Roach had always been picky around others, but for some reason she adored Jaskier. He—again—wondered if that was a god thing or a Jaskier thing. Probably both. "Where are you going?"

"We—well, _I_ need food," he corrected.

Jaskier peered at his sword, "You're going to stab a poor deer?"

"Or a bunny," Geralt said, tilting his head back and forth. "Though yes, I prefer deer."

Jaskier frowned, "And yet you would've judged—perhaps _killed_ me—for killing humans." He looked thoughtful more than upset. "I will never understand," he said, shaking his head. He stepped away from Roach. "Let me do it."

"Why?" he asked. "I thought you didn't enjoy killing."

Jaskier pursed his lips, "I don't, but I also do not have to eat, so I never saw the point in murdering cute little animals. Your body is obviously different." He scrunched his nose. "Weaker," he said; again, spoken like a fact and not an insult.

"And what would be the difference," he said, "between me and you killing them?"

Jaskier smiled brightly, "Watch."

He turned away and entered the woods. Geralt sighed and followed him; Roach was already tied up. They searched for a bit before Geralt spotted a deer. He debated just taking care of it himself, like he had many times before, but then Jaskier rushed over and smiled like he was about to do something wonderful, not kill a forest animal.

Lifting his hands, he took a deep breath and pushed it out, and the deer turned to look at them with dark, beady eyes.

Geralt watched, silently, as the deer looked away again and slowly laid down, curling up. It looked like it was simply preparing to rest. Jaskier approached the deer after that, and so did Geralt, and he watched as the deer closed its eyes and its breathing slowed down.

Slow, slow, until finally it stopped. The deer passed away peacefully.

Now Geralt understood the difference. He glanced at Jaskier. "You could do good things," he said, "with powers like that."

Jaskier stared at him, "I told you," he said, "they are scared of me. I've tried to help them." He looked away, down at the deer. "They don't want my help."

Geralt placed a hand on his shoulder. "Sometimes humans shun things they don't understand," he said, also staring at the deer. He wished he had powers like that. He hunted for food because it was what he had to do, but he got no joy out of killing animals. "But you have to keep trying."

"I wouldn't know where to start," he said.

Geralt squeezed his shoulder, "I do." But then: "You're having to have to do something about your eyes." His eyes flickered down to his hands. "And, _uh_." He pointed at his claws.

Jaskier pouted but just like that his eyes turned normal; white with blue pupils and his claws retracted. "I look _boring_ ," he whined. Geralt could only laugh as he squeezed his shoulder again.

"You'll get used to it."

*

Days later, they had reached their destination. Jaskier was vibrating with excitement as Geralt jumped down from Roach and tied her to the post out front, the same one as before. He turned to Jaskier. "Stay," he said, pointing to the ground. "I'll be right back."

Jaskier pouted, "But—"

"Stay," he repeated, "and don't cause any havoc, okay?"

Jaskier rolled his eyes and turned away sharply. "At least you aren't abandoning me, Roach," he said, scratching behind her ear.

Geralt smiled briefly before he turned and walked to the door of the tavern. When he entered, he was relieved to see her: the same bartender as before. She looked even older, though it had only been a few days. Stress had a way of doing that to a person. He walked over and she glanced up, frowning.

"I thought you'd be smarter than this," she said.

Geralt smiled at her, "Can I speak with you?" he asked. "Outside."

She sighed heavily and looked around. "Sure," she said, suddenly yanking off her apron and placing it on the bar. "Why the fuck not?"

She followed him outside and Jaskier perked up at the sight of a new person. Geralt waved him over. She looked between them skeptically.

Geralt cleared his throat, "I never did get your name," he said.

"Ahn," she said. "Okay, what's going on here? I have a dagger in my boot."

Geralt smiled, unable to help himself, and tugged Jaskier closer. "He's—" he said, squeezing Jaskier's shoulders “—going to get your animals back."

"I am?" he asked just as she asked, "He is?"

Geralt glared at him and he quieted down, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth. "I am," he said slowly, turning toward Ahn. "Uh, what animals, exactly?" he asked, and she rolled her eyes.

"I don't have time for this," she said as she turned away.

Geralt grabbed her arm. "Just wait."

Ahn stared at him for a long, silent moment. "Fine, okay." She turned toward Jaskier, arching an eyebrow. "All the farm animals in town escaped over a week ago; we've been able to find a couple roaming the forest, but that's not even half of 'em. The town is real tense because of it."

"Okay," he said. "I can find them."

Ahn squinted, "You can?"

Jaskier smiled brightly, and perhaps there was power behind it because Ahn visibly softened, her shoulders loosening. "I can," he assured her. "Just give me, hmm, thirty minutes."

"So quickly?" she asked, eyes widening. "But we've been searching for days."

"He can do it," Geralt said roughly. "Trust me. Just show us the biggest farm in town."

A few minutes later, and they were in the forest after Ahn had shown them to the largest farm in town.

"The first step to being better," Geralt said as Jaskier glanced around, "is fixing your mistakes when you can."

Jaskier peered at him oddly. " _I_ didn't do this." "What?" he asked.

Jaskier turned away again and closed his eyes, eyelashes fluttering. "I did not do this," he repeated as his fingertips glowed and his eyes opened, black again. "But that doesn't matter: I _can_ help them."

Geralt felt them before he saw them: the ground started to shake under his feet, and he glanced up just in time to watch as the trees parted, and dozens of animals—cows and pigs and goats—showed themselves. They were dirty, and a little skinny, but alive. Jaskier walked, silently, eyes dark, to the edge of the woods and the animals followed.

He stepped out of the woods, and so did Geralt, and he led the animals through the gate of the farm. Geralt rushed over and closed it once they were all in. Jaskier locked it with a flick of his finger.

Geralt let out a breath, "You did it."

He turned to Jaskier. His eyes glistened. "I did it," he conceded. "I feel... _weird_."

Walking over, Geralt gripped his shoulders. Jaskier startled and looked up at him. His eyes were black, but full of emotion, surprisingly human. "You did a good thing, Jaskier."

"I did," he said, almost a question. He smiled finally. "I _did_ ," he repeated more confidently.

Geralt reached up and brushed some hair out of his forehead; he barely even realized what he was doing. "Thank the Gods," Ahn's voice, from a few feet away, made him pull away. She was staring at the animals with wide, glassy eyes. "How—how did you—I don't understand."

"He did it," he said, nodding at Jaskier, who had quickly shifted back.

Ahn rushed forward without missing a beat. Jaskier stiffened when she first threw her arms around him, looking at Geralt with wide eyes. He simply smiled and nodded, and Jaskier slowly hugged her back. Ahn buried her face in his shoulder and sobbed, "Thank you, _thank you._ "

Afterwards, Ahn paid Geralt despite his protests. "If you won't use it," she said, "at least buy him some shoes."

He glanced at Jaskier's feet and suppressed a laugh. "Yes, of course."

Her eyes were still bloodshot and watery as she walked away to tell the townsfolk of the miracle. Jaskier watched her, biting his bottom lip. He looked human, both in his appearance and the way he was holding himself. Geralt couldn't help himself; he wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

Jaskier startled briefly before relaxing again. "I don't feel weird," he said. "I feel _good_."

"You should," he said. "You saved these people, Jaskier."

Jaskier nodded, "I want do it," he said. "I want to be good. _Do_ good things."

Geralt smiled, looking away. Jaskier leaned against him. He was warm, warmer than any human. He knew it was only a matter of time before he had to confront Yennefer, and defend his decision, but for now he just basked in the moment. They had saved a town, and without any death. It wasn't something he was used to. Jaskier could do that, though. He could be a _hero_.

He just hoped Yennefer would be able to see that.

*

After that, they stayed in town for a bit. Ahn had told the others of Jaskier's miracle, and the townsfolk showered him with both praise and coins. Jaskier was always shell-shocked, and always looked to Geralt for help, but he just smirked and left him to it. He needed to learn how to interact with humans, and what a better time than the present?

They even got a free room at the local inn, and so Geralt was truly in no rush to leave.

"Geralt, Geralt," Jaskier said one morning.

He didn't open his eyes. "Jaskier, what time is it?"

"Um." Jaskier bounced on the bed, jostling Geralt, "Time for you to wake up?"

Jaskier was like a child and a puppy and a god mixed into one body. A dangerous mix if you asked him. Geralt sighed heavily and opened his eyes just a crack. That's when he noticed the thing Jaskier was holding and he sat up, "Where the fuck did you get that?"

It was a lute, pale wood with dandelions etched into it. "Um, I was in the market and I saw it, and the lady at the stall told me I could have it." Jaskier smiled brightly. "I never knew humans could be so _nice_."

Geralt smiled, just barely. “Do you even know how to play it?”

“Well,” Jaskier blinked, mouth twisting, “No.”

They spent the morning in the tavern with Jaskier getting lessons from one of the local bards. Ahn walked over and sat down, smiling slightly.

“I don’t know— _what_ he is,” she said, “but he’s a good man for what he did for us.”

Geralt watched Jaskier as he strummed a cord and beamed at the bard, almost too bright. There was something otherworldly about the glow of his skin when he was too happy. He hoped the bard didn’t ask too many questions.

“He is,” he confirmed. “I just hope—” he didn’t really know what to call Yennefer “—my friend agrees.”

Ahn shrugged, “If you need a testament to his goodness, just let me know. I’ll talk to them.”

He smiled again. “Thank you,” he said, meaning it. But he knew he wouldn’t take her up on it; likely they would be far, far from here by the time he took off the ring. He spun the ring on his finger, around around, without even realizing it.

“Geralt,” Jaskier said, rushing over. He was still glowing with joy. “I can do it. Watch.”

Squaring his shoulders, he played a few cords. Geralt grinned, unable to help himself. Ahn clapped lightly.

Later that night, he sat on the bed and watched as Jaskier spun around the room, strumming the lute and humming under his breath. He was beaming, and he hated to interrupt. But there was something he needed to tell him, and soon.

“Jaskier,” he said finally.

He stopped spinning. “Yes?”

“We need to talk.” Geralt swallowed. “It’s important. Can you put that—” he nodded at the lute “—down?”

Jaskier placed the lute on the ground, leaning it against the end of the bed, and sat down. He tucked his legs underneath him. Geralt sat up a little straighter. There was no more putting it off; Jaskier would find out eventually.

“I need to take this off,” he said, gesturing at the ring, “and… when I do, Yennefer will portal here.”

“ _What?_ ” he exclaimed loudly. He wasn’t surprised; he’d been expecting an outburst. “She’ll try to _kill_ me, Geralt,” he continued quickly. “I’ll have to kill _her_.”

Geralt reached out, fast, and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I won’t let her—or you—do that.”

Jaskier stared at him for a long, silent moment. “Why?” he asked finally, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth. He had _so many_ humans habits, but there was no denying his divinity, not when his eyes were pitch black and he had talons like a hawk.

He had told Geralt, once, that looking human took no energy out of him. He could do it forever, even when they were alone, but that he didn’t _want_ to.

He _liked_ being himself, and Geralt had told him, “Okay, just only ever around me. Understand?”

So far he’d been sticking to it. When they left the inn, Jaskier turned back.

“She’s my friend, Jaskier,” he said, aiming for the part of him he knew was _kind_ and would understand. Jaskier pressed his lips together and looked away. “More than that, she paid me to do a job that I wasn’t able to do. I need to tell her that, and why, and return the money.”

Jaskier obviously did not like her, and for obvious reasons. Geralt didn’t expect them to be friends; he just needed to keep them from killing each other.

“Jaskier,” he continued when he didn’t reply, squeezing his shoulder. “I will not let anything bad happen.”

“Okay,” he said, turning back to him. “If you say we need to do this, okay.”

Geralt smiled, just barely. “We do,” he confirmed, “for your own safety.”

“I knew it,” he said, smiling back. Geralt tilted his head curiously, and he continued, “You _are_ a good man, Geralt.”

He wanted to deny it, had been taught over _years_ and decades that he was _not_ a good man, that he could kill thousands of monsters and he would still always be one of them. But no, he didn’t believe that. He knew better, now, than he did when he was younger.

He was no monster, and neither was Jaskier.

*

Geralt was woken by an unexpected whooshing sound and the warm shifting of Jaskier in his arms—ah, right, he had forgotten Jaskier had crawled in bed with him last night and he hadn’t stopped him. For reasons. It had been a mighty cold night.

Though he assumed that didn’t matter to Jaskier, with his godliness and all.

“What the _actual_ fuck, Geralt?”

He sat up so fast he saw stars. Jaskier sat up less quickly, obviously not threatened, then he stiffened at sight of the intruder and Geralt could _feel_ it. He wanted to comfort him, wrap an arm around his shoulders, but he didn’t. He had a lot of explaining to do first.

Yennefer stood at the foot of their bed, arms folded over her chest.

“Uh,” he started, eloquent as always.

Yennefer narrowed her eyes, flashing with judgment, but then—“I can _feel_ the magic pouring off him.” She sounded confused more than anything. Fair enough; she probably wouldn’t jump to the conclusion that Geralt had not only not killed the beast, but had been actively sleeping with him when she showed up. “I _pay_ you to do a job and you spend it sleeping with some half-baked mage?”

Jaskier smiled, slow and devilish. “Funny,” he said brightly. “ _I_ called _you_ that first.”

She glared at him. Geralt could already feel his control of the situation slipping. “Yen,” he said, clearing his throat. “I—I need to talk to you about— _this_ ,” he finished lamely.

Jaskier was still stiff, his shoulders hunched up to his ears. He was strong, and they both knew he could protect himself against Yennefer, that’s not why he was tense—he _could_ do that, but he didn’t _want_ to. He wanted to be good, and Yennefer was a threat to that.

“And what, pray tell, is _this_?” she gestured, glancing between them sharply.

Geralt had wanted to talk to Yennefer without Jaskier, first, but apparently that was not happening. He shoved the blanket back, rough and itchy, and climbed out of the bed in just his underclothes. Yennefer didn’t even blink; she’d seen it all before.

“You paid me to kill a monster,” he said slowly, “but there was no monster to be killed, Yennefer.”

Yennefer let out a sharp laugh and glared at Jaskier again. “You’re telling me—that’s the thing that’s been wrecking havoc across the whole fucking Continent, and you’re _sleeping_ with it?”

Jaskier growled as he sat up a little straighter, blanket falling away from his shoulders. “I am not a _thing_.”

She blatantly ignored him. “You literally had _one_ job, Geralt. I told you _not_ to be _soft_.”

“And _you_ know,” he said gruffly, “that I do not enjoy killing unless I _have_ to.”

Yennefer threw her hands in the air, “ _Did_ I know that? I thought you were a _witcher_ and killed for money, Geralt, which the Brotherhood gave you _plenty_ of.”

Geralt walked over and pulled the pouch of coins out of his bag. “Here,” he said, returning to her. “They can have it back. You’re right; I _didn’t_ do the job they paid me for.”

“You’re—you’re seriously deranged,” she said with a huff of laughter. “He’s been torturing—”

Jaskier climbed out of bed, fast. “I was not _torturing_ them,” he said, “I was trying to have fun.”

“Yeah?” she asked, turning toward him, fire in her eyes. Geralt’s skin itched. “Well, intentions? They don’t mean fuck-all. These people were suffering for months while you just did what _you_ wanted, and now you need to pay for it.”

Jaskier tilted his head up, bottom lip trembling. Geralt realized, then, that he had never seem him cry. He hadn’t even known if he could. “I’m sorry,” he said, eyes watering. Geralt couldn’t help himself any longer; he walked over and wrapped an arm around Jaskier, who was a god just as much as he was a hurt young man. Yennefer looked at him oddly. “I—I didn’t know I was hurting them. I really didn’t—I never killed anyone. I just wanted them to _pay attention_ to me.”

“And how do you intend to make up for it?” she asked after a few long moments.

Geralt remembered Ahn, and what she had promised him. He hadn’t had any intentions of them actually talking, but he also hadn’t intended to still be _here_ when he finally confronted Yennefer. “You should meet someone,” he said, and they both turned to him, equally confused. “I think it’ll help you understand why I did what I did.”

Yennefer narrowed her eyes, skeptical as always, “Who?”

“Just—trust me, okay?”

She stared at him for a long, silent moment. “Okay.”

Geralt smiled, just barely. It was a start, at least. He dressed himself, and so did Jaskier. Yennefer watched, undisturbed by any of it. Afterwards, he led them across town to the tavern. Yennefer was uncharacteristically quiet.

“I’ll be right back,” he said to both of them.

Thankfully Ahn was there, cleaning one of the tables. “Sorry, we’re not—”

“I need your help,” he said, and she looked up, brightening a bit. “With what we talked about before.”

Ahn nodded, “Of course.”

Minutes later and Geralt watched, with Jaskier, as Ahn and Yennefer had a conversation a few feet away. Unfortunately Yennefer had put up a magical wall that stopped Geralt from eavesdropping—the witch. Jaskier fidgeted, his eyes a bright blue as they always were when it wasn’t just the two of them.

“Hey,” he said softly.

Jaskier startled and looked at him. “What happens—” he started, “—if she still wants to kill me after this?”

Geralt hadn’t actually thought about that. He glanced at Yennefer, listening as Ahn talked animatedly, gesturing wildly with her hands. Yennefer, who he had loved, and still loved but in a different way, who had helped him protect the dragons and their egg so long ago. She was good, understanding, _kind_ —he knew that.

Which is why he felt so confident to say, “If that happens, we will leave. Together.”

Jaskier smiled at him, almost shyly. It was a new look for him. Geralt smiled back and took his hand, squeezing. He would do what it took to protect both of them.

Finally, Ahn finished explaining the story and Yennefer walked over. Geralt nodded at her from over Yennefer’s shoulder and she smiled before she turned and walked back to the tavern.

“You really did that?” she asked, staring at Jaskier. “Saved all those animals for these people?”

Geralt wanted to answer for him, but he didn’t. He knew this was a moment that mattered, that Jaskier needed to answer for himself. Jaskier tilted his chin up, unwavering. “I did,” he said clearly. “And I would do it again and again and again, because it made me feel _good_. And—and I like feeling good. I like _doing_ good.”

Yennefer stared at him, and stared. Geralt was starting to think perhaps he had misjudged her when she finally said, “Okay.”

Not what he’d been expecting, but it was something.

Yennefer turned to him with an unimpressed look. “I can only speak for myself,” she said. “The Brotherhood might still try to track him down, Geralt.”

Geralt nodded, understanding, and squeezed Jaskier’s hand. He squeezed back, smiling slightly.

“But I _will_ say this,” she continued, “if I ever feel like _this_ was a mistake, I will come back and finish the job my damned self.” Yennefer paused, looking between them. “Do you understand?”

Geralt nodded again. He did not doubt her—or her threat—for even a second. “We do.”

“Good,” she said roughly, squaring her shoulders. “Now I should probably get back and try to get them under control before they do something stupid.”

Turning away, she paused when Jaskier said, “Wait.”

She slowly turned back, “What?”

“I fixed it,” he said, eyes flickering to her stomach. Geralt let out a disbelieving breath, and squeezed his hand again, a silent question. Jaskier didn’t even look at him though. He stared at Yennefer, bright-eyed. “I could tell it was upsetting you,” he said. “What they had done. So—I fixed it.” When Yennefer didn’t reply, just stared blankly at him, he quickly continued, “I’m—I’m sorry. I thought you’d be happy. I—I can reverse it, if you want.”

Yennefer cleared her throat, hard. “No, no,” she said, shaking her curls back off her shoulders. “I am. Happy, I mean.” She looked at Geralt, briefly, before she turned back to Jaskier. They had what looked like an almost silent conversation. Geralt had so many questions, but he didn’t ask any of them.

“Goodbye,” Jaskier said finally.

Yennefer arched an eyebrow and turned away, opening a portal. She hesitated for a moment—turned back and said, “Goodbye”—before she stepped through.

“I can’t tell if she likes me or not,” he said once she was gone.

Geralt hummed and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, nosing at his hair. He hadn’t expected to feel so— _happy._ But he was; he had both Yennefer, still, and Jaskier. Though he was realizing that he wanted Jaskier in ways he had never wanted Yennefer. That was a conversation for another day. “She likes you,” he assured him. “Trust me; you’d know if she didn’t.”

“Hmm.” Jaskier looked at him, smiling. “Where should we go after this?”

Geralt didn’t really care, as long as they were together. He didn’t say that, of course.

“I don’t know,” he answered. “Where do _you_ want to go?”

Jaskier sighed softly and leaned his head on Geralt’s shoulder. “Wherever they need my help?”

“Oh, Jaskier,” he said. “They _all_ need your help.”


End file.
